The Jack of Spades
by kweenofalldreams13
Summary: Previously Love Is Wanting to Be Loved. Spades and Jack are falling in love–but not with each other. Spades does love Jack, but there is one little speed bump in her love story, and her name is Sarah Jacobs.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_Daddy coughed, and stopped running, even with the coppers behind us. Me and Annie stopped to wait for him, and the coppers' torches burned brighter behind us, getting closer, closer. Daddy's eyes water and a hacking cough racked through his whole body. He shuddered, tripping, and fell onto his chest. Annie and I looked at each other quickly, doubling back to help Daddy up and get him to come with us. He waved us off, shooing us toward the other end of the alley._

_"Girls, go, I'll be fine. Go!" he ordered, giving me a shove to get us going. I snatched onto Annie's hand and dashed toward the other end. The coppers slowed down when they got to Daddy, picking him up and taking him away. Annie and I hid in the scraps piled up against the wall of another grey brick building, and watched them beat him down, until he fell subserviently into a crumpled heap in their carriage. Annie and I exchanged another look, of fear, maybe despair, and she bit down hard on her lip._

_"What are we gonna do now?" she whispered, her dreading eyes flickering around at our surroundings, as though she'd just woke up from a very long dream. The coppers were turning around, and the sound of their harsh shouts started to dissipate. Annie shivered; them brutish bulls hadn't given us enough notice to get a coat before they straight chased us from our home. In fact, we didn't have nothin' anymore._

_"I dunno, Annie," I whispered back, sitting up against the wall and huddling close to my sister, wrapping my arms tight around her. My eyelids started to droop heavily, my head all nodding to the side. "We gotta just make the best of what we got, which is nothin'. We just gotta make it tru' da night and we'll be alright for now." Annie whimpered and tears flooded down her white cheeks, shinin' in the moonlight. Before I knowed it, I was cryin' too._

_"It's okay," she chanted, holding me and rocking back 'n forth. "We gonna be okay. I promise. We gonna be okay." Suddenly, the tables all turned. It was her comforting me, the strong one comfortin' the weak one, and we lay there in our misery until somebody, someone who'd heard our cryin', came out and found us._

_Heavy footsteps dropped through the alleyway, and me and Annie tried to hide in the scraps again. An older man with a funny-lookin' dusty grey bowler hat came out to greet us. He looked so warm, wearin' his big black coat and shiny black shoes. He stopped in front of us, sad-lookin' eyes givin' us the one-over, tryin' to see if we was dangerous or not._

_"Why, aren't you two little ladies cold out here?" he rasped, genuine concern on his wrinkled old face. We huddled closer, shaking from both fear and the cold. "Come along, now, I won't hurt you two. Do you need a place to sleep?" I ducked my head. Daddy said never trust no strangers–if we could, try to shack up wit somebody like Medda Larkson, an old friend of Daddy's. "Come along, girls, I've got a nice warm lodging house with a bunch of nice boys there who can help you get settled in. My name's Kloppman." He bent down a little, leaning on a thick wooden cane, and offered his hand out to the two of us. Annie acted before I did._

_"I'm Annie Walters," she told him, putting her little, young hand in his big, old hand and shaking. He smiled kindly, and turned to me._

_"N-N-Nancy-May Walters," I stuttered. Annie blushed a little, and I looked down. Going to school, a lot of kids made fun of my stutter, so much that I did it even more than I would've ordinarily, especially when I was nervous. But Kloppman put on a sympathetic smile and I shook his hand._

_"Have you girls had anything to eat yet tonight?" We shook our heads in unison. "Come along, then, I do believe I have some warm bread still in the oven. If you'd like, of course." We nodded in unison, and followed him through the alleyway into a doorway full of light. The sign above the door read "Newsboys Lodging House." It was a stranger's house, I learned, full of newsboys of all ages and my sister and me. It was a strange house, I learned, but it was now my home._


	2. Things I See in You

I own nothing except for certain bits of the plot and Nancy-May/Spades and Annie/Dotty. The title of the story belongs to John Lennon.

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**Things I See in You**

Since Kloppman accepted me and Annie into his house wit all the boys, we figured we had to work for a home. We became newsies wit all the other boys. As we was on the younger part of the ladder startin' off, and as we was the only goils in the work force, we moved the most papes a week that year, about a thousand on a average week, a thousand and a half when the headlines were good. Due to my not-stutterin' during the performances of music, I sang the headlines, sang little ditties that popped into my head when I read 'em too. That brought in most of my profit. Annie would make poems out of her headlines, and recite 'em for the buying customers. That brought in most of her profit.

At first, we wasn't nothin' to the boys, and they made us clean and stuff for 'em, at least when Kloppman wasn't lookin'. But then, when we was both thirteen, Kloppman took in this new boy who changed it all, just when he walked in the door.

It was a real normal day, we had just got in from another day of work, and Annie and me was watching Racetrack dominate another poker game, even though Mush looked like maybe he could have him this time. Race had just demanded another drink from the cooler, and I had gone to get it, so I wasn't there for Kloppman's formal introductions. But when I got back to the poker table, there was another boy sitting there with cards in his hand, a cowboy hat on his head, and a concentrated look on his face.

"Why do they call ya Mush anyways, kid?" he inquired, even though he didn't look much older than any of us, fourteen or fifteen at the oldest. I opened my mouth without thinkin', rollin' my eyes all the way.

"'Cause he used to be real chubby, like a pile'a mush," I muttered, sliding Racetrack's drink to him across the table. The rest of them laughed, but Mush pounded me in the arm with a closed fist. I bit down on my lip real quick and tried to hold the tears back. It hurt like hell, especially comin' from him. The boy stood up, slamming his cards down on the table, and grabbed Mush by the collar.

"Didn't ya muddah ever tell you ya never hit goils?" He shoved him back into his chair, lookin' around at the rest of 'em. "If I ever see any'a youse beatin' on anudda goil, _ever_, you'd best prepare yourselves for a good soakin'. Am I clear?" The dead silence, the blazin' tension in the whole room, affirmed his question. "Good." He turned to me, spittin' on his hand and holdin' it out. "It's Jack Kelly, but youse can call me Jack or Cowboy." I spat in my hand and slapped it into his, where he shook it.

"Nanc-cy-May," I declared, my stutter edging out with the second syllable. From that moment, Jack had commanded respect from all the Manhattan newsies, rising to the top of the food chain. Three years after his arrival at the newsie house, Cowboy Jack Kelly had become the leader of the Manhattan newsies, and I harbored a secret crush on him, so secret that only Racetrack, Medda, and Annie knew about it. Racetrack had wormed it out of me one day at the tracks after he'd seen me starin' at Jack for a while and Medda had that woman's intuition, but Annie knew as soon as Jack and me shook hands; some kinda weird twin telepathy or something like that. Me 'n Jack were pretty good friends, but I still didn't feel too comfortable all the time around all the boys.

It was somethin' different between me 'n me sister Annie, one of the many things that was different b'tween us. She was real good with the guys, knew how exactly they ticked and worked well with 'em socially. I was still awkward and quiet and shy, only actually gettin' on pretty well with Annie (her bein' my sister an' all), Jack himself, Racetrack, and Crutchy. Annie was prettier than me, with light hair and nice eyes and a tall, slender body and real graceful, with da boys always goin' after her. I had darker hair and our eyes were the same, but I was shorter and, well, compact, not so graceful, either. The boys weren't much after me, with the slight exceptions of Crutchy, who had always had a crush on me but knew I was too shy for him and that all I wanted was to be friends, and Bumlets, who had had a brief crush on me the first week after Jack came and I tried to come out of my shell a little, but then he realized that I wasn't much for him. He didn't know that from the beginning it had been Jack. It had always been Jack. And sometimes, for Jack, for some reason, I thought maybe it could have been me, too. Like one time, when I couldn't fall asleep, it was the middle of the night, we took a walk together on the roof.

"So how come you can't sleep, Spades?" I'd gotten my nickname from the first winning hand I'd ever had in poker, a royal flush of all spades. He sounded real sleepy, but I tried not to feel too guilty. He was the one who came down to the kitchen watchin' me get a glass of water. I shrugged, blushing.

"I dunno, a lotta things, I guess. M-maybe it's me dad, m-missin' him an' all or something or...Hey, Cowboy...you think I'm pr-pr-pretty?" The question slipped out, and my face went entirely red afterwards, but Jack just smiled, and we sat down on the steps outside of Tibby's, the place we almost always hung around after work. I kept my mouth shut real tight, and tried to close off my ears, in fear of what Jack might say, but what he _did_ say surprised me.

"Yeah, I think you'se pretty. Why'd ya ask that, or don't'cha already know you'se pretty?" I looked down into my lap, rubbing my thumbs together and feelin' nervous. "And it ain't just the outside'a you that's pretty. Listen, don't worry about the rest of them not seein' it in ya, 'cause I see it. It's just, they see your sister more, on account of her always bein' all friendly like she is, so they don't really pay attention to all the important things, you know? But I think they _will_ see it someday, they'll see the things I see in you. They'll see it. You're beautiful, Spades, and don't let no one tell you anything else." His encouraging words brought a stupid smile to my face and a rosy red blush to my cheeks. Jack always had a way with words and he always would, especially that particular summer of 1899...


	3. Carrying the Banner

**Carrying the Banner**

Mornings were all the same. Me and Annie, or as she'd been called since our arrival, Dotty (for her ability to be amusingly absurd), always got up earlier than the rest, even though I enjoyed my sleep more than most. But we got up early so we could get ourselves ready in peace and not have our goil parts flashin' out fer all the boys to see. But today we got up, all of us, and greeted the pretty mornin' with another trip to see Mr. Weasel. On da way there, we had a little encounter with the stupid Delancey Bruddas.

"Well, well, what have we here?" Oscar announced, the same ugly sneer on his face as always. Morris glared around dumbly. "Same old newsies, eh? I'm surprised you two lovely ladies are still in cahoots with this lousy, low-life bunch." To punctuate his statement, he spat at Jack's feet and shoved me and my sister backwards, tumbling into Mush and Blink. Jack gently nudged us out of the way and approached the pair of 'em.

"Didn't your rotten mudda ever tell you never to mess with goils?" he challenged them, getting into Oscar's face. "And by the way, you shouldn't call anybody a lousy low-life, unless of course, you're referrin' to the family resemblance wit your brudda here." He gestured between the two of them, and I noticed their scowls becoming more and more imprinted into their faces. Oscar was smarter than Morris, and Morris was bigger and tougher than Oscar, and together they made an ugly team. Racetrack started callin' out bets: 5:1 Jack beats the tar out of the Delancey bruddas. "That's right," Jack said softly, moving in on Morris. "It's an insult. And so's this!" With that, he threw off Morris's bowler hat and beat it, with the rest of us chasing him and cheering him on. The Delancey bruddas ran for him, and the rest of us formed a circle around the three of 'em, Morris and Oscar chargin' all at him, takin' swings at him. Jack got Oscar around the neck, and Morris (again, bein' all brawn and no brains), swingin' for Jack, hit his brother instead. He jumped on the gate and opened it for the rest of us newsies, so we could get to the distribution office.

"So did you miss me, Weasel? Did ya, did ya miss me?" Jack inquired, leaning against the metal bars that separated us from Weasel and Morris and some other stiff. They exchanged their little usual argument, before Jack received his usual hundred set 'a papes. I lined up behind Crutchy, gettin' my usual hundred twenty-five, and Dotty behind me got her hundred twenty-five. We was partners every day, on account of us bein' sisters. We started to make our way out of the station, but Jack started talkin' to this newbie and his adorable little brudda.

"Hold on," muttered Dotty, grabbin' onto my arm so she could watch what was goin' on between the boys. "Slow down, I gotta see this." Jack was offerin' up a deal with the older newbie, to partner up so he could get the younga kid to front for him. The older brudda seemed real hesitant on it. _Kid's got brains_, I thought, watching him hold his ground wit Jack and think he was winnin' in the situation. Little did the kid know that when you was fightin' something wit Jack, there wasn't never any winnin' in your case. He was arguin' for a fifty-fifty split on the profit, but Jack gave him the option of sixty-forty (Jack to the kid) or nothin'. He accepted. Jack went to spit-shake but the kid withdrew his hand.

"Whassa matter?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed. The kid looked like Jack was holdin' a gun to him instead of a hand.

"That's _disgusting!_" the kid shouted. I went up to the kid, shakin' his hand the normal way.

"Hey, there, s-s-s-sweetie, wh-wh-what's your name?" I asked him and he grinned a big toothy grin. God, he looked like such a happy kid. What in the hell was he doin' sellin' newspapers?

"My name's Les. What's yours, Lady?" He had a real cute voice, cute enough to match his face.

"They c-c-call me Spades, but if ya want, you can call me Nancy-May. Dat's my real name. These knuckleheads call me Spades 'cause of card games. You any good at card games, Les?" He shrugged. "You g-g-gonna sell w-w-w-wit Cowboy today, Les?" He nodded eagerly. I crouched down to his level. "Well, I'll tell ya somethin' then. Y-ya gotta always listen to whatever Jack tells ya. He's a real smart g-guy, ya know, the leader of the Manhattan newsies. He knows what he's d-doin', he'll help you out just right." Something in this kid made me feel nice, and the same thing made an ugly feeling spring up deep inside me: it was the look of hope in his bright, shinin' brown eyes. He was so hopeful, that maybe through all the bad things we was gonna go through, bein' the poor newsies and all, everything might turn out okay. But it was the same kind of hope that had to be crushed, like I'd experienced so many times during Christmastime when a new younga kid joined the lodging house, having to let the poor kid know there was no Santa Clause, and because we didn't have enough money, there wouldn't be a Santa Clause ever again to bring you those nice, new toys every Christmas morning. No Santa Clause or no Mom or Dad to hold you when you was scared or sing in your ear and tell you everything was gonna be okay. But we had each other, so that was who we commiserated with, who we partied with, and who we hung around with.

A little bit later, Les left me so he could go sell papes with Jack and his big brother David. I paired up with Dotty as per usual, and we headed down to Central Park as per usual, me singin' the headlines and her writin' up poems about 'em. We got rid of about fifty papes more or less in the first hour or so and stopped for a little while for lunch. Even a little while later at lunch, and even wit the weak headlines and all, a few people stopped by to buy a few papes from us. After lunch we finished up sellin' papes and headed down to Tibby's to spend some time on our own. Everybody was there, everybody except for Race (who was at the tracks with that hot tip of his), Jack and the new guys, David an' Les. We figured we'd just let 'em getta know each other for a while, I guess, before we headed back up to da lodging house. Race sat outside smokin' and I joined him just sittin' there, and Dotty went inside wit all the rest of 'em.

"Guess I messed up again, huh, kid?" Race asked, glaring down at the lit end of his cigar. I leaned against the post in front of the door, watching the lights from the trolley strike all across the roads, the fires, and hearing all the shouts and screams and ugly grunts. "Usually my luck ain't this bad wit the tracks...but I guess people make mistakes too, huh?" I nodded, sucking the cold air in as it blew around my face with another gust of wind. He paused before taking another long drag from his cigar and blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Y'know, ya don't have to hang around here wit me if ya don't want, Spades."

"I-I-I dunno, Race. I like it out here and, well I got you, don't I? It's just...the air. For once, I c-can breathe wit-out nobody else breathin' down my neck. 'Sides, you could probably use some company till Jack gets back." My heart gave a twinge when I said his name, with the feeling that something ugly was going to happen to Jack. Well, not necessarily to him, but that something would happen to him that would absolutely kill me. We had all heard the story of his trip to the refuge, and maybe this time Teddy Roosevelt wouldn't be around to save his behind from Snyder again....

"You worry about him too much, Spades," he said, shaking his head, lowering his voice as a dark figure with a red bandanna around his neck started approachin'. "Trust me, kid, one of these days he'll come to 'is senses." With that he flicked a few of his ashes at me and I swatted at them, punching him in the shoulder. "Heya, Jack," he said, greetin' Jack, who had a deep morose look on his handsome face. God, did it only make him look twice as good whenever he was either real brood-y or real happy?

"Hey, Spades, hi, Race. How'd the day at the tracks go?"

"You know that hot tip I told you about?" Jack nodded. "Nobody told the _horse_." We retired up to the lodging house, and I got ready to get to bed wit Dotty, sayin' good night to all the boys beforehand. She already had her gown on by the time I got up there so I fixed myself to get to bed, brushing my teeth and tying my hair up over my head.

"Sleep well, Spades," Dotty said to me, reaching up and patting the side of my bunk. I bade her the same and rested my head deeper into my pillow, falling into a night of dreamless black sleep.


	4. Nowhere Man

**Disclaimer/A/N:** I only own Dotty and Spades. Trust me, if I owned Newsies, things would be DIFFERENT. ;) Ya know, reviews are always appreciated. :)

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**Nowhere Man**

I awoke again later that night, when it was still dark outside and the clock read three thirty-five. Whenever I woke up in the night I was never able to go back to sleep, so I climbed down from the top bunk, crept downstairs to the tiny kitchen, and poured myself a glass of water. My head was swimming a little bit, and my ears were buzzing.

"Can't sleep?" asked a squeaky voice behind me. I turned around, standing up to pull out a chair for Crutchy. "Me neitha. How'd you goils sell today?" I shrugged.

"Nothin' we ain't used to, Crutchy. You sell okay?" He nodded, rubbing his arm and falling down into the chair I pulled out for him. He beckoned for me to come closer and spread his arms out for a hug. I hugged him, feeling a little odd that he would choose that moment in particular to give me a hug. I sighed. "How come you're up, Crutchy?" He looked hard at me.

"It's Jack, ain't it? Jack, 'cause you don't like me the way I likes you," he said flatly, and I froze, my eyes locked on his. "S'okay, I undastand. Jack's a good-lookin' guy, real smart, an' he's Jack, ain't he? All goils like Jack at one time or anudda. Just let me know if youse don't like him no more." He grinned his good-natured grin and winked at me. Only Crutchy could ever smile after asking the girl he liked whether or not she liked one of his best friends. Why did he have to be so sweet and lovable and optimistic? Why couldn't I just like him back instead of going after Jack, who wouldn't never pay me attention? I tried to come up with an appropriate excuse, but all I was able to utter was:

"I'm sorry," and it came in a croaky, weak sort of voice. Crutchy shrugged, the small smile still on his face.

"It ain't your fault," he told me, patting my hand sympathetically. "Ya can't try ta like people, I didn't have ta try ta like youse. Ya just a really nice goil, ain't like any udda goils I ever met. Ain't like youse sister, even doh da resta dem like her and all. I mean, she's pretty an' all, but she ain't like youse." For a moment I almost believed him. But then I came back to my senses–'cause, no, Dotty wasn't like me. She was prettier, nicer, and all the boys liked her better. Probably even Jack too, but I knew she wouldn't dare go for Jack because she knew how I felt about him, and she was my sister and she knew that'd crush me. But at the same time I felt like I was doin' to Crutchy what Dotty didn't dare do to me. "Why don't ya go for a walk on da roof, Spades? I know up dare's always quiet and nice-like."

"A walk on the roof sounds like a good idea, Crutchy. Thanks fer the talk," I thanked him, and hugged him again, this time surprising him and me both by giving him a tiny kiss on the cheek. "Good night, Crutchy. Sweet dreams." He answered the same with an odd, knowing smile, but I ignored the smile, ascending the stairs and taking two at a time. Once I got to the top, the sky wasn't as dark as it usually was, more a greyish-blue-black, foggy with smoke from the New York factories. I sat on top of the roof, looking up and out. The stars were gone under the smoke, and the sky was nearly unrecognizable. I sat out there for a few minutes, just looking up, thinking about everything, these new newsies, Jack, Crutchy, Dotty, everything. It was awful cold–I realized this wasn't such a great idea when I started shivering. I shut my eyes and closed my arms around myself, trying to quit the shakin' and all that.

"Headin' up to da roof wit-out a jacket ain't a great idea, you know dat?" asked a voice sarcastically behind me. I rolled my eyes on the exterior, but felt the familiar flutter of my heart behind my ribs. "Here. I got anudda, and b'sides, I ain't all dat cold." Jack threw me his jacket, and I took it eagerly, wrapping it around my shoulders. He sat down next to me, the warmth of his body and the warmth rising within me because of his presence made me suddenly feel a little overheated. "So whatta you doin' up heres all on ya lonesome, Spades? Can't sleep?" I shook my head.

"Can't never sleep, Jack, not with everything goin' on at this crazy place," I told him, sitting up and pulling my knees tight to my chest. He patted my shoulder sympathetically, and nodded himself.

"Yeah, I getcha. I getcha. I ain't much of a city boy anyways," he said obviously, staring out over the stretch of sky, holding his cowboy hat in his hands close to his heart. "I been thinkin' about it a long time, 'nd I saved up some money fer a one-way train ticket out to Santa Fe. I'll have enough to live for me-self by the end'a summer, and den I'm outta this place fer good." His voice trailed off into a dreamy state, and his eyes sparkled with longing. My heart sank in my chest down into my stomach. It wasn't as though none of us knew it was gonna happen–Jack had always gone on and on about headin' out to Santa Fe ever since he even showed up at the lodging house. It was where he belonged, we all knew it, but he couldn't go. He just couldn't. I wouldn't let him. I couldn't let him.

"We all thought you liked it here," I mumbled, trying my hardest not to cry in front of him. I never cried, much less in front of him, but my throat was burning hard and my eyes were watering up. I looked away from him, making sure he wouldn't be able to see if I did let any tears loose, but my crackling voice betrayed my intentions. He turned me towards him, his eyebrows set in a thin line of concern on his forehead.

"Hey–I know you'se are gonna miss me, but, listen, I ain't that special, kid. You shouldn't care so much about me, you know? Quit bawlin', I ain't worth bawlin' over." He moved to wipe my tears away for me, but I swatted his hand away and shook the tears off on my own.

"Shattap, Jack Kelly, I ain't bawlin'. I...I got somethin' stuck in my eye." I pawed at myself, knowin' even then that I had a horrible habit of telling lies, to myself and others. Lying to other people was pretty tough for me, but I did it a lot anyways, but lying to myself was harder. Only thing about lying to myself was that I never believed me.

"Whatta ya think of that Davey kid?" he asked out of the blue, his dark eyes scanning the night sky for something that could have been out of place. I shrugged noncommittally. Davey seemed nice enough, but I don't know, I never really got to know him. My eyes were still wet, and my nose was still fulla snot. "Hey, Spades, ya ever had a...ya know, like a...a boyfriend or somethin'?" I almost got whiplash, my head turned to meet his gaze so fast. Why on Earth would he ask something like that?

"Only that one time when youse and Blink dared me to kiss Spot's buddy Crash, but that doesn't really count as a boyfriend I guess. I guess not, eh, I guess I'se never had a boyfriend anyway. How comes youse asking, Jacky-Boy? Need some girl help?" I teased him. He pretended to laugh, but then his eyes lost the funny in 'em. My stomach dropped through my feet and my face fell. "My God...you actually do need some girl help, don't you?" He nodded sheepishly, rubbing his arm self-consciously. My cheeks filled up and got all red and I looked down at my feet. "Well, what are youse havin' trouble with, Cowboy, what can I'se help you wit?" I redirected my eyes to his face, and I noticed that he was blushin' too.

"Well, it's this goil. And I ain't known her too long, and she's a sister of one'a me friends. I think maybe she likes me too, but ya know, I ain't known her too long and me friend's her brudda." He went quiet for a moment, looking at me silently. "Hey, Spades, don't worry about gettin' no boyfriend soon. Youse...youse too young or somethin', Spades, you'se too pretty ta get a boyfriend just yet. You don't deserve to be livin' on da streets all your life, ya gonna get a boyfriend who's in a big-time job wit big-time money, and you'se gonna live in a nice house wit him and have a lotta real rich, good-lookin' little kids. You'se gonna be a famous singer, too. Prob'ly get in to work wit Medda at Irving Hall and ya sistah can be a writer too. Ya sistah an' you, you'se gonna be alright. Gonna get married to good, smart guys and be alright." He nodded like it was me he was trying to prove it to.

"Jack..." I trailed off, looking off to the sky.

"Davey'd be good for ya. He's a smart guy, he's gonna go to school an' everything, you'd be just fine wit him. I ain't tellin' you what to do or nothin'," he backtracked, putting his hands on my shoulders. "But, I'se just sayin', it'd be smart to be wit' him or somethin'. Or Snitch, Snitch went to school a while back, didn't he? I t'ink you'd go good wit Snitch or Davey, they knows what they're doin' most'a da time. Yeah. Davey." He nodded to himself. "Davey'd be best. He got a good head on his shoulders, and youse could meet his sistah, Sarah." For some reason, the way the name slipped off his tongue made me shudder, and then I figured it out. _She's a sister of one'a me friends. I think maybe she likes me too, but ya know, I ain't known her too long and me friend's her brudda._ She was probably pretty. She probably had nice, long, silky hair that Jack could run his fingers through and stroke when she was sleepin'.

"Gosh, Jack, ya shouldn't worry so much 'bout what's good for me, alright? Maybe I don't want the stuff dat's good for me. Maybe I'd radder have what makes me happy den what's good for me." He seemed surprised I talked back. "It's late, Jack, I gotta go to bed. Have a good night, then." I patted his arm coldly and marched back to bed. What a fan-freakin'-tastic little talk. Boy, did Crutchy pick 'em. Maybe he figured jealousy would make me love Jacky more.

Great. Just great. Didn't work out so well, did it, Crutchy?


End file.
